“To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle, Every cubic inch of space is a miracle.”
Walt Whitman 1819-1892
Len looked up at the huge boulders suspended miraculously in the air by 100 foot columns half their width. As a child he and Jack had been caught overnight on top of the mesa they were passing. Search and rescue had spent the night hoping to save the boys lives before they died from hypothermia. They had dug out a shelter in a copse of trees and laid branches and weeds over the hole. Their night was quite restful. In the early morning a rescue worker was surprised to see them walking along the road on the way back to their house. Both remembered the best tuna fish sandwich they had ever had.
Jack made the turn up Guaje Canyon towards the pumice mines. There was a back road through the pumice mines that would shield them from a nuclear hit on Los Alamos. This was a smart choice by Len. There was at least two feet of snow on the road. There would be points on the switchback up to White Eagle Pumice Mine where chains would be needed. Even then he wondered if they would make it.
There was a huge shaft that descended from the top of the mountain used to shunt the pumice into trucks. It stood as a headstone to the mine. In Junior High they would sit on cardboard and ride the shaft. It was insane. There were holes in the shaft on the way down that had to be avoided. If you didn’t bail before the end, you were a dead man. The fence in front of the shaft lay broken in half. Years ago Jack and Len had cut the fence by placing hollow point bullets one next to the other in the fence staves. Eventually, over the years, they had cut the fence in half.
“Do you still have the emergency store in your Hummer, Jack?”
“We planned for this years ago. You know I do. Are you going to tell me what your thinking or leave me hanging?”
“Later, let’s put the chains on. We need better time than this.”
They stopped just below the switchback up the pumice mine road. Both were dressed in last night’s clothes; heavy boots, parkas and snow pants. Jack threw one set of chains to Len. They were finished in three minutes.
“Jack, all I can tell you is we have to make great time. You have to drive this beast faster and better than you’ve ever driven before.”
“What do you want to do when we get to the Santa Clara Ranger Station? They’re closed this time of year and that gate is impassable.”
“We’ll have to drive around and chainsaw down the trees. We’ll just winch them clear. Won’t be a problem. Our big problem will be getting through Santa Clara Canyon.”
Jack and Len had driven these mountains for more than 30 years. Their entire driving childhood had been spent racing through these dirt roads. Len watched his memories roll by as they traversed switchbacks up 500 foot mesas, drove over frozen stream beds, and slid down pumice embankments. He looked over at Jack. His friend had stuck by him his whole life. Would he stick by him through this? He had to. “I need Jack. He’s the wind beneath my wings.”
Although New Mexico had been growing at an astounding rate, the high mountains northwest of Los Alamos saw little to no human traffic. This was partly due to the impassable nature of the roads in this area. The terrain changed quickly from canyon junipers to widely spaced pines. Large snow white cones of pumice pierced the rugged granite with castle facades. Snow covered all but the steepest ground in quiet solitude. Above them, as they drove, circled two crows on warmed currents in the crystal blue mountain skies.
No matter what disaster befell the world, these mountains would always be peaceful and quiet. In these hills were the Indian burial grounds of the twelfth century. It was here that Conquistadors camped before continuing their march into Colorado. North of these impassable mountains the Spaniards settled northern New Mexico in the late fifteen hundreds. Their families were still here. Maria’s family lived just 20 miles to the west in Espanola.
Len’s musing was interrupted by a loud thud on his door panel. Jack had lost control for a moment and skidded sideways into a tree.
“Sorry about that.”
“No problem.”
All four wheels spun in the deep snow drift until the Hummer high centered. Jack looked ahead at 12 feet of snow piled up in front of the Hummer. The canyon collapsed into a ravine that had 50 foot rock walls on either side of the road. This was the third time they had gotten out of the Hummer and attempted to dig a runway to ram through the drift. From here in the road was impassable by car. The crisp morning air filtered through his nose as the silence wrapped him in a blanket of calm.
“Well, this is it Len. We can’t go an inch further in the Hummer. What say we break for lunch.”
Len was lost in the same trance of quiet solitude that had held Jack for a moment. “Oh yeah, that’s a good idea. Do you still have the white tarp for the Hummer?”
“Sure.”
“Let’s cut it up and cover what we can when we’re on the move. We’ll make this lunch a short one. I estimate we still have 1 1/2 days to where Canones Creek is intersected by that stream that runs off Cerro Pavo Peak. I want to bivouac in Dead Man’s Cave until we can decide what to do.”
“Just what the hell is this all about Len? Why didn’t you pick up your family? None of this makes sense to me.”
“I’ve got a lot of explaining to do. Not now though. You have to trust me. I’m sending Maria an email tonight to explain. What’s for lunch?”
“I’ve got some cans of chili and beans, some Indian bread, some tang, and some power bars. Figure we should save the dried food for the trip.”
Jack got out of the Hummer and opened up the back. He pulled out Len’s backpack and his own and set them in the snow by the side of the Hummer. The back of the Hummer was filled with storage containers and water containers. Guns were mounted on the driver side windows and crossbows were mounted on the passenger side windows. Jack took a tarp out and handed it to Len. He opened up a green storage container marked “Canned Goods” and pulled out the beans and tossed them onto the tarp.
“Do you want to heat these up?”
“Nah, haven’t got the time. Where’s that Indian bread?”
Jack pulled the bread out of a container marked “Dried Goods” and said, “Just tell me this. Does it have something to do with Chicago.”
“Yeah.”
“Open up that can, will yuh? I’ll start checking off the packing. How many days of water and food do you want to carry?”
“Maximum possible. Say three weeks of food and a quart of hiking water. We can set up a cistern using a space blanket and melt water during the days. There are a lot of streams along the way to refill.”
Jack held up a luger and asked Len, “Do you want to take weapons? What about your rifle?”
“Leave it. I don’t want to take anything that makes noise. Let’s pack the crossbows.”
Len opened up the can of beans and handed it to Jack who was getting out of the Hummer pulling the white tarp.
“Thanks Len. You want to ruin my tarp. Great. What do you want to cover, the backpacks and leggings?”
“That should be good enough. We can extend the tarp over the packs and snow shoes so that we’re not visible from the air. The remainder can still cover the Hummer.”
Len and Jack spent the next half hour taking bites of bread and loading their packs with mountain climbing gear, winter boots, sleeping bags, hammocks, emergency kits, stoves, knives, thermal cushions, tents, wool socks, wool shirts, wool pants, crossbows, darts, fire starter, flint, matches, space heater, water, and dried food. Len packed his notebook computer and battery against the back wall of the backpack.
“Hey Jack, remember this.” Len held up a 1 foot by 1 foot by 1 inch black box with a collapsible antenna attached to it. You helped me design and build this. I always have it packed and ready to go in my backpack.”
“Sure I remember. It was the crowning achievement in a long line of computer innovations we had that didn’t make us a dime. You’re not thinking of backpacking that dinosaur in with us are you?”
“Have to. Maybe you’d like to carry it half the time?”
“Sure, Len. I’d love to leave my job and friends behind in the time of a national disaster and carry your play toys miles into a snow laden wilderness. Would you like me to pay you money for this opportunity?”
“No. That’s O.K. Just sacrifice your life for me when the time comes.”
Jack finished cutting out the cloth necessary to cover them in white while they were tracking into Dead Man’s Cave. Jack covered the Hummer with Len’s help and said, “Let’s lash the cloth coverings onto our legs and backpacks and get going”
Len and Jack helped each other with their backpacks and turned northwest.
“Jack, no matter what comes of this, thanks.”
Cero Toledo Peak rose up to their left, the top unseen. They had just passed the spring at the end of Turkey Canyon. Ponderosa pines rose up on all sides of them. Santa Clara Creek gurgled under blue ice. The cliff faces rose up silently in front of them glistening against the dark blue winter sky. A small breeze blew down the canyon and circled powder around their cross country skis and leggings. A crow drifted silently above the canyon as another cawed in a tree down by the spring. A jack rabbit broke down the creek bed weaving between oak bushes and sage. Over the Sierra de Toledo ridge to their left was the Valle Grande, one of the largest calderas in the world.
Jack thought of the first time he met Len. He had jumped onto a rock in his backyard. That moment so many years ago opened up the doors to a whole new world made of mystery and science. Adventures lay awaiting him everyday in the canyons and backyards of Los Alamos. He knew that once again he had come to a cusp in his life.
